Sleepsong
by lloydskywalkers
Summary: There are several immediate problems following the defeat of the Preeminent, one being the complete lack of an engine, and a second being Lloyd's painfully obvious need for three days worth of sleep. Cole's just hoping his new status as a ghost doesn't end up the third of those problems, but he's not much for hoping.


**ahhhHHHH so I'm way behind on replies and chapter updates thanks to finals (I'm almost done with the next updates though!) but I got an ask on Tumblr about season 5 aftermath, and I just...I had to write something for it, because there was no way. There was no way Lloyd just walked all that off, Morro had him pretty much the whole season and we saw what _five minutes_ did to Ronin. Also Cole is a ghost now, and Lloyd just got possessed by one, so I wanted to...explore that. **

**Anyways here's more season aftermath angst, specifically season 5 :D**

* * *

The aftermath of the battle is, as it usually goes, incredibly underwhelming. And by that, Cole means incredibly _slow_, because the Preeminent ripped the motor off their steamboat, and even with Nya pitching in every now and then, their pace across the seawater is glacial. By the time the nearest Ninjago shore comes into view, everyone on the boat's on their last legs of sanity — some for…slightly different reasons than others.

The _thing_ about being stuck on a crammed steamboat for hours on end, is that you can't really hide. There's only so far you can get, unless you take a dip in the ocean, which is a _hard pass_ for Cole — not that he was trying to hide, anyways.

No, the only one who looks like they're actually considering jumping off the side of the boat is Lloyd, and that's because instead of vanishing off to who-knows-where to have his inevitable breakdown, he's stuck smack in the middle of his very protective family, who get an up close and personal view of the exact moment the color starts to leech from his face.

Lloyd's making a valiant effort. He's _been_ making a valiant effort, ever since they pulled him from the Caves of Despair. He and Kai had cornered Sensei in what turned into a near-shouting match alone at letting him fight in the battle against Morro in the first place, because Lloyd had looked two degrees from dead when they'd gotten him back. He'd only looked _moderately_ alive when he'd stepped out with them, hoodie hanging too loose from his shoulders as he'd handed off the green gi to Nya, and it had burned Cole to let him take the brunt of the fight as he did.

Not that Cole feels much heat now anyway, but — metaphorically.

Either way, Lloyd holds up valiantly until the combined toll of Morro's possession and the battle with the Preeminent finally hits, at which point he goes a sickly shade of white and keels straight over into Kai with a migraine so bad Cole can't even manage to pull his fingers free from where they dig into his skull.

"What happened?! Did Morro hurt him?"

"Did _Morro hurt him_, where have you _been_ this last month—"

"I meant right _now_, don't snap at me—"

"_Would you_ keep your voices down, you're only causing him more pain."

This quiets the commotion that's sprung up in their corner of the boat, all of them hovering anxiously over Lloyd, their salt-water hair and wind-swept clothes and already-forming bruises leaving the entire team a vivid mess. Kai's left holding a lapful of whimpering brother, looking two seconds from crying himself as he tries to soothe Lloyd before he tears hair out, so Cole takes a shuddering breath, pulls himself together, and takes the lead.

It's easier than he'd thought it would be, allowing himself to fall into the removed sort of autopilot. Shoulders back, emotions locked up tight, put on a brave face and make the calls. Leading has never been an easy position, but it teaches you to compartmentalize, to suppress, and to delay.

That delay is what Lloyd is paying for now, Cole thinks soberly, as Zane and Kai carry Lloyd up the steps of the _Bounty_, Sensei already darting inside to brew up whatever tea's supposed to help this time. It'd be easier if Cole took him — he knows that. He's the strongest of the team, even in this state.

But he can't bring his ghostly fingers to touch him. Not with the flinch that had run through his younger brother earlier.

Cole swallows thickly. Lloyd hadn't meant it, he knows that. He wouldn't even hold it against him if he had.

The turnaround from regaining Lloyd to the battle with the Preeminent was terribly quick, and it only takes a look or two to gain an understanding of the damage wrought on their youngest brother. Lloyd is bruised and gaunt and horribly thin, and the normal shine in his eyes is hollowed-out and haunted. There's an unspoken dread among them all, a heavy weight that sits on their shoulders, that Morro has actually managed to break Lloyd with his possession — that the longs weeks spent trapped in his own mind, beaten and neglected and alone — have snapped the unfathomably strong willpower Lloyd's always had.

And Morro, for all that Cole hates him for that, was a ghost. Cole isn't stupid enough to miss that. And he's certainly not stupid enough to ignore what the repercussions of that might be on Lloyd, toward anyone _else_ who might be a ghost.

Cole feels his chest tighten as he watches Nya run a hand through Lloyd's tangled hair, her eyes a million miles away as she sits beside where he lies on their couch, tucked firmly into the layers of blankets he recognizes as Kai and Zane's.

He bites his cheek. It'd be better if they used his. It's not like Cole needs them anymore.

"He's overtired," Sensei Wu says quietly, his hand drifting briefly across his nephew's forehead. "He pushed it too far in battle, and he has yet to fully recover from the toll both the possession and his injuries took on him. He will be fine, with rest."

There's a quiet exhale of relief at his words, but it's a weary one. Kai doesn't look at him, his stare only growing hot where he sits at Lloyd's side, refusing to move even to change from his battle-stained gi.

Cole's eyes flick to Sensei Wu, then back to Lloyd. There's a bleeding kind of pain in Sensei's words, his voice shot through with loss. There's a crippling edge of guilt in it too, though. Cole knows Sensei is mourning Morro — he knows their relationship was different. But as much as Cole prides himself of being sympathetic, it's really, _really_ difficult to feel any sort of grief for Morro, when his baby brother's curled in on himself in pain on the couch, eyebrows furrowed tightly in stress and exhaustion.

Lloyd murmurs something inaudible, shifting in his sleep before settling again, his expression still pinched in weariness. He somehow looks both years older and so very _young_ at the same time, and it makes Cole's heart hurt.

He's yanked from his staring as Jay's head suddenly presses against his shoulder. Cole starts, almost forgetting to remain solid before Jay yanks his head back up, eyelids fluttering from where they'd drifted off to sleep.

"Sorry," he yawns, rubbing at a bloodshot eye. "Didn' mean to fall asleep on you."

Cole blinks at him, then glances at the rest of their team. Lloyd isn't the only one succumbing to exhaustion — the entire team is barely hanging on, all dark-circled and hazy eyes. Beside Jay, Zane looks like he wants to shut down for a month, Nya looks like she's close to tears for some reason, and Kai looks like he's steadily burning through the last reserves of his energy just by staring at the floor.

Something weird shifts in Cole's gut. He feels exhausted, stripped raw and worn, but he doesn't feel tired, not like the others look. He just feels that same, cold kind of numbness that has yet to leave him since Yang's temple.

He swallows again, and tries to ignore how useless the gesture is.

"You should head to bed," he tells Jay gently instead. His lifts his head, addressing the others. "We all should."

Kai opens his mouth to protest instantly, then shuts it. He glances at Nya, who's practically asleep where she sits on the couch, seconds from tipping over. He looks at Lloyd. "I'm sleeping out here," he finally says, firmly.

Cole guesses that's the best he can ask for from him, right now. He nods to Zane, who gently helps Nya up, knocking Kai lightly on the shoulder as he does. "At least change," he orders, and it's a sign to how tired Kai is that he complies without arguing.

Cole tugs Jay up by his arm, patting him on the back. "C'mon, zaptrap," he murmurs. "I'm not your pillow."

Jay grumbles inaudibly at him, but he staggers to his feet, yawning as he plods toward the bedroom. Cole looks to Sensei Wu, who is still hovering by Lloyd, staring at his nephew with a look Cole can't quite figure out.

"Sensei?" he finally dares, hesitantly. "It's been a long day, so…"

"Ah, of course." Sensei Wu blinks, shaking his head. "I would let him rest here for the night," he says, nodding to Lloyd. His voice is quiet, and Cole can easily find the pain in it this time. "Better to let him rest."

That doesn't exactly settle well with Cole, because the idea of leaving any of his brothers apart for the night, even if it's just in another room, turns his stomach. Especially when one of them is the brother they'd lost, and only just barely got back, so—

Well. Cole doesn't need to sleep anymore, does he. He can keep an eye out.

"Of course," he says instead, dipping his head as Sensei Wu heads off after the others. "Goodnight, Sensei."

Cole moves to follow him, figuring he can at least change his clothes, but he hesitates over Lloyd, footsteps faltering. For a brief second, he lets his hand hovers over the top of his brother's sleeping head, barely ghosting the pale blond strands. He swallows, then pulls his hand away.

Lloyd had told him once, when he was younger, that he was scared people would hate him for what he was. Never _who_ — just what. Cole had never understood the phrasing, but now…

Now, Cole desperately, painfully hopes Lloyd doesn't hate him for what he's become.

* * *

It's the third nightmare that finally manages to pull Lloyd from sleep, because _somehow_ the first two weren't exciting enough to warrant waking up for.

At least he hasn't woken up Kai with it, he thinks miserably, still trying to catch his breath, his heart racing from the nightmare. He exhales shakily, glancing over to where Kai's sprawled out on the couch across from him, snoring quietly and dead to the world. Kai looks exhausted, even in sleep, and Lloyd feels guilt digging its claws into his chest again.

_Your fault_, a voice in the back of his head reminds him. _You hurt him, you hurt them all, Green Ninja—_

Lloyd swallows, wincing as he shifts, sitting up quietly. He won't wake Kai up for this. His older brother has suffered enough for him already.

Besides, his throat feels like he's been swallowing sandpaper, and he doesn't; really trust his voice, anyway. Lloyd sighs, swinging his legs over the side of the couch and tugging his blanket over his shoulders like a cape.

In all honesty, he'd like nothing more than to stay on this couch for the rest of his life, because Kai let him have his really warm blanket — which, granted, says a lot more about the state Lloyd's in right now than he'd like, but still. Lloyd is comfortable, tucked in the corner of the couch like he is. And _comfortable_ isn't something he's been in the last few weeks, at all.

But he's not — he's not supposed to be thinking about that, he reminds himself, furiously shoving the memories back into their little _Do-Not-Touch_ box in the corner of his mind, as he gingerly tests his legs out. His right leg shudders precariously when he stands, and Lloyd bites his lip, frowning. He could've sworn it was his left that was hurt, since that was the one the Preeminent had nearly ripped off pulling him into the Cursed Realm, and Morr—

_Aha, nope_, Lloyd reminds himself. _Back in the box._ He can think about that — about _him_ — later.

Much, much later. Right now, he just wants a glass of water, then he wants to go back to sleep for another twenty hours straight. He'd like to just go back to bed as it is, because his limbs feel as sluggish as melting butter, but the water's important, because he's _'severely dehydrated'_ or something. Whatever Zane had declared as Lloyd tried to stop his brain from imploding on him earlier.

So glass of water, then back to bed. Lloyd just has to make it to the kitchen, which should — _should_ be easy. His leg isn't shaking that badly, and it's not like his ribs are _actually_ broken. Just bruised, and Lloyd can walk off bruises, easy.

He just needs to remember how, he thinks, as he takes a shuddering breath where he stands frozen. He blows it out, closing his eyes to steady himself. He immediately snaps them back open, trying not to keel over to the side._ Oh, mistake_. Every time Lloyd closes his eyes he's falling through realms again, the world spinning and leaving him loose and shaky, which is only moderately better than the alternative thing he'd see, which is…

Well, _he_ left Lloyd with a lot of things he could see that would keep him up.

_Back in the box! _Lloyd scolds himself, frantically tearing his mind elsewhere before he can slip down that particular slope, one that he knows is only going to send him spiraling into icy fear and panic.

Lloyd shakes his head furiously, bare feet padding quietly as he makes his way to the kitchen. His skin crawls at the darkness that presses in from all sides, and he feels his power press against his fingertips, begging to light his way. Lloyd presses his lips together and shoves it down. His control over his powers is tentative at best right now — he'd learned that the hard way earlier, when he'd exploded all the police floodlights that were just trying to get them safely to shore.

The reminder causes his cheeks to heat, and Lloyd bites his lip. He doesn't want to think about how much he's lost, how far behind he's fallen, because of…this. His powers feel wild and fragile now, like they did when he was just beginning to train, and Lloyd hates that. How is he supposed to make up everything to his team when he can barely even—

A cold chill of air suddenly licks against the back of his neck, rustling his clothes and blanket and tugging at his hair, and the chill that slides down his spine is all the warning he gets. The whistling sound from the broken kitchen window should have warned him, but Lloyd's still unprepared.

It's just — it's the _wind_.

That's all, just a little _breeze_, and Lloyd's slammed so hard by a dizzying vertigo of terror that he falls right to his knees on the spot, his vision going hazy as a dull roaring echoes in his ears.

He'd scream, but his lungs have suddenly quit on him, sputtering uselessly in his chest as he wheezes, panic blotting out every other rational thought. The phantom fingers of the wind are still grasping at him, still pulling at his hair and wrapping around his neck, forcing into his mind and tearing him apart form the inside and _no_, no no no, he can't do this again, he _can't_—

Some part of Lloyd's mind knows perfectly well what's happening to him. It's not like he hasn't had panic attacks before. But the _rest_ of his mind—

Lloyd's teeth press together so hard his jaw aches, and his eyes burn as he forces shaky breaths to rattle from his chest. The hot shame of how _pathetic_ he has to look right now is only drowned out the absolute sense of terror rooting him on his knees.

_Kai_, he thinks desperately, his hands shaking so violently that his fingernails clack against the floor. Kai is here, Kai will save him from Morro, he won't leave him to spiral back into that darkness. His whole family is here, just in the other room, if he can only—

A muffled voice forces its way through the roaring in his ears, echoing oddly against his brain. Before Lloyd can place it, there's a touch on his shoulder, gentle but _cold_, like a wisp of freezing air, just like _his_ touch.

Lloyd looks up, and through blurring vision sees that same unearthly shade of green, flickering and translucent, and his entire being slams into panic.

All he's able to get out is a rasping croak, but he's still able to snap at the figure.

"Get _away_ from me!"

He tears his arm from their grasp, stumbling back. He's not going to be taken again, he's not going back in the darkness, he's never letting someone touch him like that again—

Lloyd wipes at his eyes, his vision clearing, and he freezes dead.

— oh. Lloyd's eyes go wide in horror. Oh no, oh _no_, it's not him. It's not any of his ghosts.

It's _Cole_, his hand pulled back to his chest, staring at him with the most heartbroken, hurt expression on his face Lloyd has ever seen in his life.

Lloyd's heart drops all the through his stomach to his feet, and he goes cold.

"I-I—" Cole's eyes are wide with hurt, but that hurt quickly melts into a horrified kind of despair. He pulls back further, swallowing thickly. "Sorry," he mutters, looking away. Shutting down. "I'm sorry, I should have realized—"

"No—" Lloyd croaks.

"Obviously you'd — I'm sorry, just being _stupid_ Cole as always—"

"—no, no Cole—"

"—just making things worse, I'll leave."

"N-no, Cole, I didn't mean — Cole, I'm so sorry—"

Cole isn't even looking at him, his shoulders hitching tightly as he turns away. "I'll get Kai. Or anyone else."

He moves to his feet, leaving Lloyd where he's still sprawled uselessly on the floor, and Lloyd's stomach turns.

_No, no, no!_ he thinks frantically, fumbling to find feeling where his legs have gone numb. Cole can't leave, not with that look still on his face, not before Lloyd can _fix_ this—

"Cole wait, stop—!"

Lloyd moves to rush after him, to grab him, to pull him back and apologize — but his ankle is still weak and his balance is still shaky and the panic's left him wobbly, and he gets one step before his foot twists in his blanket, the ground's yanked out from under him, and he slams front-first into the floor with a muffled grunt, knocking his chin against the floor and biting straight through his lip.

"_Ow_," he manages into the floor, somewhat stunned, his voice muffled as his face throbs.

"Lloyd!"

_Oh good_, Lloyd thinks hazily, as his mouth fills with tangy, metallic blood. It worked. Cole came back.

Hands wrap around his shoulders, hauling him up and setting him upright before quickly pulling back. Before Lloyd can protest, Cole's back, all up in his face where he's now sitting on the floor next to him.

"Aw, Lloyd, why'd you do that," Cole's voice is pained as his hand ghosts over the blood dripping down his chin, thick eyebrows tense in worry.

Lloyd shakes his head, wiping a hand over his mouth and grimacing. His lip stings something horrible, and he's appalled to find that his eyes are tearing up from the pain.

"I wan'ed to match the rest'a my face," he manages out though his busted lip, before cringing.

Cole gives him a _look_. Lloyd doesn't feel bad at all. It's better than the look he'd had on a second ago.

Cole sighs, sounding weary. "I'll get Zane. He can help you ice it, and I'll—"

"No!" Lloyd yelps, grabbing for his arm. He latches around Cole's wrist just before he manages to escape, and Cole snaps his eyes to him, looking panicked.

"Lloyd, I-I…I get it," he says, gently prying at his fingers. "What you went through — it's…it's okay, just—"

Lloyd doesn't let him get any further, because he finally gets past the giant chunk of completely _irrational_ fear in his chest and manages to throw his arms around Cole's middle, hugging him tightly until Cole's forced back down with an _oof_.

For a second, Cole's about as receptive as a rock, sitting all stiff and rigid. But he finally, _finally_ relaxes, breath whooshing shakily out of his chest as he slowly, carefully returns the embrace, wrapping his arms around him.

Lloyd's prepared for the unusually cold touch this time. He focuses instead on how gentle it is, how it feels like family and home and _safety_. He's an _idiot_ for mistaking Cole for anyone else, Lloyd thinks hotly to himself, his eyes stinging with tears.

"It's not," he whispers. "It's not okay, you're not— you're not Morro, and I shouldn't—"

Lloyd's breath hitches. Oh no, he's opened the box. He's opened the box and now he's thinking about it, his mind is reaching in and pulling out every memory of what Morro did to him, every action he took that Lloyd couldn't stop, all the words he'd forced from his mouth, all the _awful things_—

A dizzying rush of fury smashes into him. How could he, how _could_ he, it wasn't enough that he took Lloyd's body and his mind and his strength and left him a hollow shell, no, he had to dig his fingers far enough in his brain that Lloyd's scared of his own _family_ now—

"—hate him, I hate him, I _hate_ him—"

"I know, buddy, I know—"

Though Cole's holding him tight, he shifts him slightly to the side with a quiet hiss of breath, and Lloyd belatedly remembers — tears. Water and ghosts do not get along. And here Lloyd's crying enough for a river on top of him.

He jerks back with a gasp. "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" he blabbers, wiping frantically at his eyes. "I didn't mean to—"

It's Cole's turn to grab his arm before he pulls away, his gaze firm. "Don't," he says, sounding pained. "Don't apologize for that. I'm fine, you didn't hurt me."

Lloyd shakes his head. "I'm so sorry," he chokes out. "I'm so sorry, you're a ghost and it's all my fault."

Cole stills. "_What?_" he finally says, his voice incredulous.

Lloyd doesn't reply, crying harder as he tries to absorb himself into his blanket, maybe to suffocate, because at least then he won't be weeping all over the kitchen floor like a _child_, and — and—

"Lloyd," Cole sounds agonized now. "Lloyd, this wasn't your fault. _None_ of this was. You can't blame yourself for it, you can't. Please don't."

Lloyd gives a keening whine in reply, burying his face in his blanket. Yes, he can. He can, just watch him. Lloyd can blame himself for the whole sorry thing, because he went to that museum alone when he knew full well he was still a mess, and now?

Cole's a _ghost_, his family's hurt, Lloyd's a _worse_ mess, and his dad is _dead_, for real dead now, and none of it would've happened if Lloyd could've just—could've just—

Lloyd feels a bit like he's exploding, except it's all coming out in the tidal wave of tears he's been stockpiling somewhere, and darn it, he's supposed to be _dehydrated_ now, where's it all _coming_ from—

Cole gently lifts his blanket, folding it up as a barrier between him and Lloyd's running eyes, and pulls him back in, holding him tightly. Lloyd unashamedly clings back, because he's got no dignity left at this point anyways, and he's lived with the idea that he'd never see his family again now, and it hurt so much worse than anything Morro could do to him.

"It's _not_ your fault," Cole tells him again, his voice thick. "We'll fix it. We'll figure it out, Lloyd, we'll work through it, all of us together this time. You're going to be okay. I promise, I _promise_."

Lloyd just folds in on himself further, burying his face against Cole as he tries to choke back sobs.

_Going to be okay_. He wants to laugh. His dad's gone. Lloyd's entire being feels like a bruise. He could get past that before, maybe. Probably. But—

_Cole's dead. _

How on _earth_ are they supposed to fix _that? _


End file.
